


Wayward Victorian Girls

by MorganasCrow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victoriandustrial, Asylum, Battery - Freeform, Betrayal, Electrocution, Electrotherapy, F/F, Light Angst, Lobotomy, Sensory Deprivation, Uprising, breakdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganasCrow/pseuds/MorganasCrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the ladies art wayward, gentlemen artn't nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Experimental, written in Middle English.

             "I told you once,

I won't tell you twice  
Gentlemen aren't nice"

\- Emilie Autumn (Gentlemen Aren't Nice)  
  

 

                Morgana was sittingeth in front of the mirror, concealingede her face with white arsenic powder and paintingede a very thin line of red on her pale lips. Her father, Gorlois, didst not tell her the reason, neither didst he reveal her what wille haveth been waitingede for her when she cameth down.

                Her father, an honoured banker hast been waitingede at the foot of the stairs in the company of an unknown gentleman. Morgana cameth down the stairs, her hand imprisoned in the silk glove adorned with a lace slippingede over the ballustrade.

                As soon as she approachede the foot of the stairs, her father brokede his dialogue with the gentleman. Morgana madeth the obeisance: „Father,“ then turnede to the unknown, „Sire.“ „Dear Agravaine, please, allowede me to introduce thee the daughter of mine, Morgana.,“ saideth Gorlois, pattinge the gentleman’s back. „Morgana, meete Agravaine, my business partner! Thou wille becomest the lady of his.“ „So be it,“ agreede Agravaine.

                „No,“ opposede Morgana. „What didst thou say?“ askede Gorlois. „I saide ‚no‘,“ repliede Morgana. „I wille not marry a man whom I haveth been knowinge for not so far five minutes, father.“ I wille not kowtowe, thoughte Morgana, leavinge the room. Gorlois hadth to makede every effort to placate Agravaine’s wrath and healinge his wounded pride.

 

                „What hastow done?“ yelledete livid Gorlois at Morgana. Morgana resistede: „What haveth I done? Thou wantedest to sell me, father and thou art askinge what haveth I done?“ „Thou wayward child,“ shriekede Gorlois. „Art thou standingeth against thy father?!“ Morgana didth not intend to beth so candid, so openhearted. „I doth love men not, father!“ she shriekede, „and I wille not spend my life with a man only to prevail thy inability ov business diplomacy!“ Tis hurtede Gorlois‘ pride. „Thou mustest to learn what behaviour is appropriate to the lady of thy status.“

                Morgana hath been draggede away that afternoon.

 

 

                Morgana hath been undressede off her noble, costy gown and gainede her uniform – tight shorts ending in the midthigh, top, the old stringed corsett, garters and a pair ov old, torn stripped stockings. No sooner she hadeth changede her clothes she goteth anything to eat. What a wonderful invitation. She hopede Dr. Odin’s _Asylum For Wayward Girls And Ladies_ wilt not act as hostile as it seemede. And her hopes weren not in vain... it actede even worse.

 

"There will be no one to hear you scream!"

\- Motionless In White (Destroying Everything)


	2. II.

"Poupée giflée, poupée sanglée,

œdème greffé, tissus cendrés."

//Slapped doll, strapped-up doll

Grafted edema, ashen tissues.//

\- eths (Hydracombustio)

                Morgana was layinge on the floorboards. Doctor Odin’s people weren introducinge her to the everyday treatment. The hits of fists, lashes and heavy, steel hobnailed combat boots weren fallingen everywhere upon her body besides her face – upon her chest, upon her hands, upon her abdomen, betwixt her thighs, upon her back, upon her shoulders, upon her spine betwixt her shoulderblades...

                They gaven her a half an hour break in the dark room without a single flash of light, without a single sound, without a single smell... Morgana didth not know how long hath she been locked within. When she hath been takeneth out finally, she hadth been disorientated. Her tormentors saten her down upon the wheelchair and droven her to the operating theatre. The massive electrodes, connected with the huge steam engine weren fastened to her brows. The undertaker hath startenede the steam engine and Morgana’s body shooketh with cramps. How long wilt Morgana standeth her ground?

 

 

                Morgana was walkinge down the corridor. Her feet weren wobbly as she hath been electrocutede. Suddenly her body failede and she collapsede on the ground. She was tryinge vainly to rise. Her nerves weren wreckede with the electricity. Yet she feeleth strong hands embracinge her frame and helpinge her to rise to her feet. Morgana leanede herself against the wall and watchede her saviour. The supreme golden hair veilede the nest in which the sweetest face Morgana hath ever seen dwellede. Her hazel eyes weren enchantinge Morgana with their profoundness. And her lips archede beneath the pale sky ov her nose, such beautiful Morgana forcede herself not to nuzzlede her lips against those ones.

* * *

                ‘Twas the afternoon and ladies haden free time. Morgana didst not feel to go to the common room to chatter with other ladies. She steyene in her cell and restede. She hath been fallingeth asleep, wonderinge about the fair haired lady.

                The door squeakede. Morgana openede her eyes and believede she was still asleep and dreaminge. She saweth the sublimest face wrappede up in gold as in the very moment ov its first beautiful development, so sublime - not a shade of a flaw restinge upon it. Morgana reachede out to touch the dream. When her fingers caressede the beauty’s cold hand, she jerkede. Morgana could not believe her eyes. „Thou art not a dream?“ she askede. Morgana saweth the chill raneth through Goldilock’s body. „I am sorry,“ whisperede Morgana. „I only could not believe thou might have been here with me... thou art so beautiful.“ The pale beauty send her a sad smile. Morgana could not force herself not to watch the girl. She remindede her Freya, ancient pagan goddess ov love, always depicted as a fair haired beauty. „Why art thou here?“ askede the dream. „I deniede to obey my father’s choice of my husband... for I lovede ladies. And thou?“ „Basically the same,“ answerede the dream. „I fleenede my home from my husband... They founden me and bringede me here. ‘Until thou learnest to honour thy husband and thy father,‘ they said. Oh, besides... Morgause, the name ov mine.“

                The bell in the corridor rangeth. „Time for tea,“ whisperede Morgause. The tea bringende Morgana a brilliant idea.

* * *

                Morgana and Morgause wenten to the common room and metenen the ladies. Gwen, Isolde, Sophia, Elena. Morgana explainede her plan: „There art plenty ov rusty metal spikes and steel pipes on the floor everywhere. We may get our freedom if we foughten.“ Girls murmurede in agreement. „I doth not wish to be compellede to marry a man,“ addede Morgana.

                Morgana kissede Morgause goodnight secretly before they both departede to their cells. Morgana laide herself down to her bed and one more time she walkede through the plan for tomorrow. ‘Tis revolution, she thoughtet.

                Gwen turnede her face from the door ov Morgana’s cell and rushede through the darkened corridor.

 

"Don't make me live in Asylum!"

\- Disturbed (Asylum)


	3. III.

"It’s time for war!  
It’s time for blood!  
It’s time for tea!"

\- Emilie Autumn (Time For Tea)

 

                Morgana dressede her uniform and preparede for the day. Suddenly the door to her cell fleweth wide open and the undertakers rushede in. They draggede Morgana out of her cell. She saweth with the corner ov her eye they art takingen Morgause as well.

                Morgana was bound to the chair. A monstrous machine towerede in front ov her, swirminge with clockworks and steamtubes. The undertaker pointede the pipe and pullede the lever. Morgana’s skin was smittene and scorchede with the boiling steam... such a lot of pain.

* * *

                Morgana was breathinge hoarsely. Her scorched skin was covered with blisters. And her love to Morgause was burningeth just as the stream didst. „Wilst thou obey?“ askede the undertaker. Morgana shooketh her head. Thus another burning pain raneth through her body. „Thou hast to learnest where thy place is – Gwen knowest so and she is not wayward,“ yellede the undertaker. Gwen appeared in the doorframe. „Relinquish, Morgana,“ she whisperede, „it is easier.“

                „Thou treacherous serpent,“ yellede Morgana, yet the rest ov her curse perishede in the cry ov pain.

 

 

                Morgana could not believe Gwen betrayede hem. Every second her brain was not shakinge with electricity, she was thinkinge about the treason. „Well,“ thunderede the voice at the threshold, „it seems the electrocution is not enough to tame this lady. She had learnede well. We wilt be compellede to undergo particular steps.“ Morgana roseth her head. Doctor Odin was standing at the doorframe. And by his side towerede Morgause! Her fragile figure was brokened and her eyes empty. The cut upon her forehead screamede the terrible truth out loud. Tears sparklede in Morgana’s eyes before flooding her face.

 

* * *

 

 

                Since she had losteth Morgause, Morgana hath never disobeyede neither her father, nor her husband. Morgana was walkinge through the park at Agravaine’s side. When the trees spreaden out to uncover the sight ov a beautiful pond, Morgana’s look fleweth to the asylum and a teardrop twinklede in her eye. Behind the caged window on the sill her beloved one was sittingeth, embracinge her knees and swayinge her head to and fro. And Morgana had to abandone her, forsake her and followe her husband.

 

"I will marry at thy will, sire,  
At thy will."

\- Emilie Autumn (Rose Red)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired with works of miss Emilie Autumn.


End file.
